Bright's Water
by Evanescent Changling
Summary: "In the process of getting away, her hand knocked over a couple of vials, and they shattered to the floor. She whimpered at the sound, pressing up against the glass wall—half scared it might not take her weight, half scared that if she looked away, the needle would plunge into her arm." Will explores paternal care. ONE-SHOT. WILL NOT BE CONTINUED.


Bright's Water

Camille was shaking in fear; she didn't _want _to be changed, tampered with, like she were some biological test subject. She harboured no desire to be involved with those disgusting, tiny little robots slinking up her veins and becoming her blood—the thought of it made her shudder. The machine that implanted those nano particles was no better, either—cold, unblinking eyes and a concentrated look made Will Caster seem mechanical, even with the human appearance. He—it—was now the aid of many residents in Brightwood; she, reluctantly, was next. What was wrong with her, you may ask? Nothing.

At least, to her, she was fine. Her family members would beg to differ. Her uncle told Camille that she was like a monkey—her bipolar condition leading her to swing from one vine of emotion to the next. Her mother cried so often that Camille was unsure of whether it was her fault anymore. There was medication to treat her, but with her family's income at minimum wage, no one insured, they couldn't afford it. So Camille concluded she would accept herself—accept this foreign part of her—as something she should cherish. Something that made her individual.

But then Evelyn Caster came along. She purchased everything. She _owned_ the town in less than five minutes. She changed things. She scared people.

But then, those changes began to develop good properties—good things came out of these wonders. Will became Jesus-in-a-machine. He healed people with "magic"—no one else could explain it at the time—and he refurbished the town. It became its former glory. That's when her father got this great idea: if a bipolar condition is a mere chemical imbalance within the brain, then perhaps Camille could have her head fixed by this machine! After all, in Brightwood, mental illness was seen as almost a misfortune, a sin, even though she had no fault over her bipolar condition.

Camille fought long and hard with her parents. She was scared. She was young. She was thirteen, and that's why she had no choice but to give in to her parent's wishes and comply to their will. That's how she found herself wound up on a bench, waiting for her turn to be developed into a mindless network zombie. Unconsciously, she kicked her legs back and forth with an uneven rhythm, feeling her hitched breath slowly leak out of her puffed cheeks.

"Camille? Camille Bright?"

Damn. Damn it all. Camille's heart rate fluttered out of control, racing uncontrollably as she looked to the speaker. It was a young woman, dark ginger hair pulled up into a small bun, with one long strand on either side of her face. A Bluetooth was stuck in her ear and her body was tightly fitted with a bright white getup. Camille briefly marvelled at how beautiful Evelyn was—but the nausea in her belly overflowed and her shoulders resumed their trembling. Her poor, stressed heart was drumming like it never had before—Camille wondered just how much more she could take, and she hadn't even started yet!

Evelyn was silent as Camille stood, instead focusing on the voice within the Bluetooth. The prepubescent assumed that the person on the distributing end of the phone was none other than Eve's mechanical husband. It appeared she was right, as Evelyn inspected the young girl from her head to her toes and then made eye contact. "I know you're scared," Eve admitted. "You don't have to hide it. It's actually pretty futile if you do." She smiled, likely at the words from her Bluetooth, and added, "He knows everything. For empathy, mostly."

Camille cursed under her breath and tried to regulate her breathing as she was led down pale marble halls, their walls almost as reflective as mirrors but not quite so. She listened to the soft _clack clack_ resounding from Evelyn's heels, echoing down the long corridors. What unnerved her the most, however, was the emptiness, the lack of colour, the lack of sound and of decorations. It was hygienic, air smelling like pristine sanitizer, both of which Camille was a stranger to. She shrank inside of her skin.

But nothing could have surprised her more when a large monitor, suspended from the ceiling, suddenly blared with life and a large image of one man's face was displayed. With eyes that are unfeeling, he looked directly at his new patient, then gradually to Evelyn. "Take her to Section C; A and B are indefinitely crowded." Camille visibly shuddered at the sound of the computer's voice, and she again attracted his attention. She almost expected him to roll his eyes but he, in fact, remained silent.

Then with a flicker, the display resumed its screen saver persona; a pale pink silhouette of a ballerina spinning around in the dark background. For a second, before Evelyn and she continued walking, Camille's eyes fixated on that monitor, comparing herself to that lonely, blind ballerina, forced to dance through uncertainty with her feeble light.

"Come on, we don't have all day now." Eve's soothing voice reached the girl's ears and Camille complied, jogging after the tall woman.

Her throat seemed to be collecting all the muscles it could and began to strain her, strangle her, to the point where breathing was difficult. Anymore of this... unfamiliarity, and she was certain she would blackout. Everything was so... frightening, even though the attempts were obviously trying for comfort. The clearness or the untouched bleached walls, the delicate marble of the floor, or even the monitors in which Will watched curiously—all of it seemed to trigger some sort of alarm system within her body.

She fought back the choking sob, determined to be strong, determined to come out of this with her chin held high.

But it was like everyone—well, the machine and Eve—could see right through her.

"Calm down, Camille. We know what we're doing." Evelyn's firm voice only shook every fibre in the girl's being instead of providing comfort. _What is it that you are going to do, exactly?_ Camille only wondered, brushing her grimy nails along her dark skin. Her haunted eyes, flickering from one area of the hall to the next, avoiding the tall woman beside her, seemed to be surprised when they curtly took a turn in the maze-like walls and walked into a large, gaping room with engineers and patients here and there.

Unlike Camille, the clients were excited, as if eager to rid themselves of their mental or physical burden. _How can they be so trusting?_ The girl thought incredulously, feeling the now-familiar chill of unease crawling up her back. She watched, legs frozen in the center of this giant room filled to the brim with smaller, more docile rooms, absorbing every little detail that her eyes caught. The tinier rooms, occupied by patients, maintained transparent walls—most likely for engineers to keep a careful eye on the activity occurring in there.

Camille looked at a monitor in one particular room, at Will' concentration face—eyes scrunched, lips pursed, as if stimulating a real person's emotions. There was almost a breakthrough of fascination , if not for her eerie impression of the place. At her confused stare, Will's display looked up, and her heart missed a beat when they made eye contact. His eyes, strangely, held no mechanical void—instead, what she saw was the faintest warmth fighting its way through his system.

She shrank back, a little, when Evelyn reappeared in sight, eyes tired—as if this was one routine too many for her. Perhaps Camille wasn't the only one hesitant?

The girl's thoughts were shattered as Eve's voice struck them like a spear. "Come on, Camille. Room 5034." There are five thousand rooms? _Holy shi—_Evelyn interrupted her thoughts again before she could complete the profanity. "You will be attended to in a little while; there are a _lot_ of people in this place..." Camille glanced up with her dull brown eyes to see the door, plainly stating, "Room 5034."

Evelyn encouraged her in—or, more like, forced her in, and closed the door behind her. Camille, panicked, shook the door knob and fiddled with it frantically, but it was locked. Her gaunt eyes looked through the glass doors to see Evelyn's calm, bemused expression waiting back for her. _I want out! Let me out! I changed my mind! I'm not brave enough to do this!_ Camille inwardly wailed, even mouthed a bit of it, but Eve shook her head. Her heart leapt into her throat as Camille looked around in a blur, studying the room, looking for another door to open.

There was a vessel of water suspended from the ceiling, and a seat in the centre of the room. Slowly, her eyes fell upon a heavy object on a marble countertop—a hologram projector, for what purpose she did not know—and she knew that if she got desperate enough, this would be her last resort.

Breath heavy, Camille forced her shaking legs to gently stir her towards the seat—some seat-bed thing; she'd never seen it before. She supposed she would have to lie down on it; resignation was pouring into every muscle she had, and she had no more will to fight. If this was going to happen, she would have to get it over with. The sooner, the better.

"Hello, Ms. Bright."

Will's voice startled her—Camille bolted up right with a yelp. She turned behind her with wide eyes, facing the monitor, which displayed a face she had come to be familiar with. His eyes were again cold and professional. "How are you today, Ms. Bright?" He didn't wait for an answer as he moved a long appendage, needle-like and thin, along the ceiling and dipped it into the large vessel of water she saw earlier. Gently, pressure was applied to the needle, and water squirted out. Functional. Camille stared, appalled.

"Ms. Bright, your face has paled. I am sensing an increasing activation in your Hypothalamus..." He trailed off, observing her facial expressions—they gave nothing away, but he searched through her brain chemistry for signs of panic. It happened often, patients getting scared, but not to this... degree. It was almost breaching hyperventilation and panic attacks. Camille was a blank slate, both in and out, eyes fixated on that needle. Will moved it closer, out of curiosity for her reaction. To his systematic surprise, she leapt out of her trance with a loud wail, leaning back against the wall.

In the process of getting away, her hand knocked over a couple of vials, and they shattered to the floor. She whimpered at the sound, pressing up against the glass wall—half scared it might not take her weight, half scared that if she looked away, the needle would plunge into her arm.

Will withdrew the mechanic needle, creating some space between her and it, before promptly unlocking the doors. Without hesitation, Camille bolted out, her mind screaming with joy—joy that was short lived, as Evelyn's voice rang out orders, and two men in white attire grabbed her by each arm. Camille let out a wail as she was dragged from the exit, her heels scorching the floors as she struggled against their strength. "Let me go! Let me go!" Her screams attracted attention from other patients—one who had gotten their healing process over with. They shook their heads. Said she was being dramatic.

Will disagreed.

"Evelyn, what is this? I thought we agreed that patients had to be willing and were free to leave if otherwise." His voice sounded irritable, almost demanding as Camille was forced back into the room. Evelyn stepped in with her this time, sitting the girl back into the chair. Her eyes were stern as she looked to the machine on the display, almost in disapproval.

"And I thought we agreed that was for patients of 18," She responded. "Children take orders from their parents until that age." Will's face looked defiant, but he said nothing, clearly refusing to insert the needle into his young patient's arm. Eve's eyes narrowed at this. "If you won't do it, I will."

Camille's heart rate increased as Evelyn's long, pale hand reached for the needle and disengaged it from the base, refilling it with the nano-water. She squirted it once, as Will did, before turning around to the girl seated in the chair. The computer was filled with concern. "Evelyn, you are not taking the right precautions—her arm must be cleansed first, and—" His protest was cut silent with Eve's gaze.

She was smiling. "Then, perhaps, would _you_ like to do it?" She said suggestively. Will looked as if he were about to say something—but his face crumpled in defeat. A smile grace Eve's lips. "That's what I thought." She returned the needle to the base of the machine, and Will flexed it automatically.

"In return that I do this," Will said monotonously, as if all humanity was gone once again, "I request that the walls be given privacy." Evelyn nodded, stepping out of the room. At once, the glass walls turned a bright shade of white, no one able to look through or see out. Camille, having been astonished at such a feat, was now suddenly aware that she was trapped in a room, with a machine she feared most. Her heart rate returned to its alarming speed and she held her breath, holding herself gingerly.

"Camille..." Will's voice resounded pity. She looked at his face, tears in her eyes as she pictured her pure human genetics being disrupted by these... nano particles. Will emptied the needle of its serum and distorted it into a slender hand, something she marvelled at. The hand gently brushed the side of her face, combing through her messy hair. It felt like what her mother used to do when she was younger—when she would explode into tears and nothing would stop her.. nothing but this. Her scalp tingled as he pulled it away, wiping her tears with it. "Camille Bright... Hm, your ancestors founded this town." He said. It was like he were trying to begin a conversation.

Camille relaxed a little, leaning back into the chair. "I... I guess," She said sheepishly. "That's what dad says. But it doesn't really matter anymore, does it? I mean, I've lived here my entire life." Will hummed, something she found surprising.

"When I was alive, my wife and I lived in the suburbs. Not quite like this, though."

Camille's eyes widened. "You.. you were alive?" She breathed. "So those rumours are true? That Eve brought you back like fricken Frankenstein?"

Will looked unamused—but she had a feeling he was mocking the emotion. "I'm sorry, do I _look_ like a Frankenstein to you?" To rub in her theatrical theory, he crossed his eyes like an imbecile and stuck out his tongue. "Must... kill... master..." Camille gasped dramatically.

"You wouldn't kill your wife!" She said, putting her hand on her chest for effect. Will smiled, once again taking on a more serious expression.

"No... I love her very much." He told her gently. The sentence warmed the child's heart.

Camille felt a smile grace her lips, her eyes returning to the needle. "I think... I think I'm ready," She told him softly, gesturing to the machine. His eyes widened as she continued. "If those little robots are controlled by the likes of you, then I'm not scared at all," She told him quietly. "You're... probably one of the most kindest people I've met. And empathetic." She cast a sideways glance back at the needle. "Now, to get over my fear of needles..." She added with a joking smile.

Will joined her smile. "You won't feel it. It's so thin you would need a special microscope to see even a sliver of it." Camille, feeling relief prickling at her skin, held out her arm shakily as he cleaned it and gently inserted the slice of needle into her skin. There was a tingle where it entered, but then she felt nothing, and a swell of mechanic comfort warmed her chest and made her smile. "That was a gift just for you," he murmured as he worked, spreading the nano particles into each fibre of her body.

She wished she could hug him.

"I'm assuming that you would prefer not to be linked to the internet," Will continued as he finished, withdrawing the needle, "but I will not be able to speak with you." Something told Camille that, in the disappointment in his voice, Will and Evelyn may have planned for children before his unfortunate demise. She smiled a little, hand reaching into her pocket, and pulling out a crummy cell phone. Showing it to him, Will's face brightened, almost reaching a smile. "Perfect," he said. The needle yanked the phone out of her hand and Camille laughed.

"Hey!" She chased the needle around the room, her head going dizzy from the circular pursuit, and stopped to rest as Will... "upgraded" her phone. When she looked up panting, her phone was near unfamiliar. It looked like the strangest version of an iPhone with different modifications. The only thing she recognized was the little smiley face sticker on the top—her younger sister's gift.

Having no words to describe her graciousness, Camille's trembling fingers gently retrieving the phone. "Will..." Her breath hitched, throat tightening—tears rolled down her face, but this time, they were tears of finally finding someone who had accepted her as she was.

* * *

><p>Evelyn looked at the healing water, her eyes furrowed as she contemplated a name for it. "The media's going to want something better than 'Magic Healing Water'." She decided. She turned to her husband with a smile. "What do you think, Will?"<p>

The monitor stared at the water, his eyes unblinking. He thought about the girl—Camille Bright, descendent of founders of Brightwood—and he felt he knew. Without a doubt.

"Brightwater." He said. Evelyn assumed it was named after the town. It wasn't.

It was named after the child he had bonded with.


End file.
